


it's not even my birthday

by armillarysphere, larnbean



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:26:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3616497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armillarysphere/pseuds/armillarysphere, https://archiveofourown.org/users/larnbean/pseuds/larnbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom eats in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not even my birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake.

Mike and Tom want nothing more than to get spectacularly drunk after their loss to the Rangers on Wednesday night. Tom walks in the door and goes straight to his bedroom where he keeps his stash of liquor for occasions like this. Mike returns to the living room with a few shot glasses and they turn on _The Real Housewives of Atlanta_ reruns and do some shots. One after the other. 

“Truth or dare,” Mike says, eyes droopy and bloodshot. 

“Truth. I guess,” Tom says. Although there isn’t really anything he wouldn’t tell Mike. 

“Have you ever been eaten out?” Mike asks, licking his lips. 

“Like eating a girl out? I’ve done that before,” Tom says, sure of himself. He’s gone down on plenty of girls. 

“No, no,” Mike says, slurring and waving his empty shot glass around. “I mean have _you_ ever been eaten out? Like, have you ever had someone’s tongue in your ass? Licking you out?” Mike has a glazed look in his eyes like he’s thinking of the last time someone did that for him. 

Tom scrubs a hand down the back of his neck, cheeks flush from the alcohol, and from hearing Mike talk about getting eaten out. “Um, I’ve never had that done to me before,” Tom admits, a little shy. 

“God. It’s so good. I had this one girl who put her mouth on my ass when she was blowing me. Fuck. That was great,” Mike says. He closes his eyes, clearly reliving it as he speaks. Tom bites his lip, taking the time to palm his dick through his pants while Mike isn’t looking. 

“Was it just that one girl?” Tom asks, the alcohol making him bold. 

“Nah, guys too,” Mike says, sounding like there is a story behind it. 

Tom’s stomach turns with jealousy at the idea of a bunch of guys putting their mouth on Mike like that. Getting to make him moan, and squirm, and shiver. Tom and Mike are just friends, but that doesn’t stop him from looking, from noticing the way Mike always seems to lose his shirt the moment he gets into the apartment, from thinking about what it would be like if he pulled Mike in and kissed him. 

“When was the last time someone did that for you?” Tom asks. He’s curious. Does Mike just go out and do that all the time? 

“Mmmm,” Mike says, voice deep and dirty. “Milwaukee was an interesting place,” is all he says, though.

**

Tom can't stop looking at Mike's ass after that. 

He wants to taste it. He wants to put his mouth on it. He wants to make it the best that Mike’s ever had. He’s never done that for anyone before, but he wants to. For Mike. 

After his shower the next morning, Mike wanders through the apartment in just a towel, low enough that Tom can see his pubes at the front and the crack of his ass at the back. Right after they just talked about eating ass the night before and there's Mike, on display for Tom, driving him wild, teasing him, showing him exactly where he wants to put his tongue.

Tom sits at the breakfast bar, spoon hovering in midair, halfway between his mouth and his cereal bowl, willing the towel to fall down. 

"You gonna eat that?" Mike says, stopping next to him. He's got one hand on the knot of the towel, the other reaching out to steal the bowl, too lazy to get his own breakfast. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s stolen Tom’s.

Tom blurts, "I wanna eat you out.”

Mike blinks at him for a second, and then they both start blushing.

"I mean, I, fuck," Tom stammers, dropping his spoon, Cheerios flying everywhere when it lands. “Shit.” Tom hadn’t meant for that to come out. He didn’t mean to say what he’s been thinking about since he’d woken up - since last night, in fact. 

Mike's still gaping at him with that gormless look he gets, the same one he gets when someone asks him a question he doesn't know the answer to. "I thought you'd be too drunk to remember what I was saying."

Tom groans, mopping up milk on the counter, hiding his face from Mike. "I, uh, I keep thinking about it, and then you," Tom waves his hand at Mike in the towel. "Talking about how much you love it."

Mike swallows audibly. Tom tracks a drop of water running down over his chest and stomach. "You ever, uh, tried?"

"No, b-but I want to," Tom says, and wow, this is a lot harder to talk about when they're sober. "With you." he adds, face burning even hotter. He can see Mike's dick twitching under the towel. He wants to touch Mike _everywhere_. 

“Are you serious?” Mike asks, breathing hard. He’s flushed everywhere, his face, his neck, all the way down to his nipple line, just like how he gets after games. Only they haven’t just played three periods of hard hockey. Tom’s only just told him he wants to put his mouth on Mike’s ass. 

“Yeah. Sorry if that’s weird,” Tom says. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.” 

“So you said,” Mike says as he turns around. His towel drops to his feet and all Tom sees is skin. Even Mike’s asscheeks are flushed red. Mike turns his head, says, “where do you want me? Over the arm of the couch?” 

“Um--” Tom swallows, watching as Mike walks over to the couch and bends over one of the armrests. 

“Is this good for you?” Mike asks, like he’s asking if Tom’s okay with ordering carry-out for dinner.

“Spread your legs out a little more?” Tom asks, feeling a little braver when Mike isn’t watching him with those intense eyes. “And, uh, arch your back a little more?” 

Mike does as Tom asks, spreading his legs wide. He stretches out to grab a pillow so that he can hold onto it, positioning himself so that his ass is spread open, begging for Tom’s mouth. It’s right there for Tom, so that he can see how pink Mike’s hole is, and a little open. Tom shivers.

“You need some help, Willy?” Mike says, a little muffled by the position he’s in. “A few pointers?”

Tom walks over and grabs another pillow from the couch. “Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” Tom says as he drops to his knees behind Mike, pillow cushioning him when he goes down. He trails his hands up Mike’s legs, tentative and shy starting at his ankles, and then a little more sure of himself once he reaches the backs of Mike’s knees.

Mike sighs, wriggling and getting a little more comfortable. Tom digs his thumbs into the thickest part of Mike’s thighs, all hard muscle and soft skin. Mike makes a muffled noise that Tom can’t make out but it doesn’t really matter. He’s not sure where all this bravado has come from, but he’s riding the wave of confidence it gives him as he leans in and extends his tongue, licking the globe of Mike’s ass. 

Mike jumps, like he wasn’t expecting Tom’s mouth that fast, like he didn’t really think Tom would go through with it. Tom leans back, hands skimming up Mike’s legs up to his ass cheeks to spread him wider. Tom wants to tongue him so badly his toes curl. 

“Fuck -- just do it,” Mike says, loud and clear enough for Tom to hear. Then softly, “please.” 

Mike’s skin smells clean, damp from the shower still. He smells good, like Mike, and Tom’s stomach clenches when he can see Mike’s hole pulse like it’s trying to draw Tom in. Tom leans in and licks, with the flat of his tongue, over Mike’s hole, once, twice, three times until Mike’s thighs have started to shake. 

Tom licks Mike until his hole is shiny and wet with spit. He leans back to look it over. Mike looks so good, and nasty. It thrills Tom.

“No, don’t stop licking,” Mike moans out. One of his hands snakes out behind his back. His fingers thread through Tom’s hair, trying to pull Tom toward him, trying to get more of Tom’s mouth. “Come on,” Mike whines. “You were doing so good, just, put your mouth on me, suction your lips, kinda like giving a hickey. Right on my asshole, Willy, come on.” 

Tom does as Mike tells him, circles his mouth over Mike’s hole and sucks. Tom can feel Mike working his hips back, pressing his ass back right onto Tom’s face. Tom can feel Mike pulsing against his lips. 

The noises coming from Mike are loud, cut-off, little whines. Tom wants to know what Mike’s cock looks like right now. Is he as hard as Tom is? Is his dick wet?

Tom alternates between hard licks to Mike’s hole and sucking kisses. Mike’s hips keep moving the whole time, and Tom has to grip Mike’s hips a little hard so that he can keep him still. Mike hasn’t stopped making noise, just a steady stream of moans. 

“Oh, fuck, Tommy,” Mike gasps, “fuck me with your tongue.” 

Tom moans at Mike’s words and spreads Mike’s asscheeks a little wider. He flutters his tongue against Mike’s hole, just like he would if he were licking a girl out. 

Mike whines above him, “fuck, I want you deep.” 

Tom kind of wishes he could see Mike’s reactions to all of this now that he’s gotten past his nerves at the beginning. “Can you flip over?” Tom asks, hopeful. “It might be easier for me that way. For me to get you deep, like you want.” 

“Fuck yeah,” Mike groans. He moves to the couch and stretches his legs along the huge couch-bed thing they set up a while ago that never moved. 

Tom can see Mike’s dick now, hard and flushed against his belly. “Get over here,” Mike says, his voice bashful now that they’re facing each other. Tom feels kind of dumb fully clothed with his cock so stupidly obvious in his plaid sleep pants. He rearranges himself as he moves, biting his lip as he pushes his palm against his cock, feeling how hot and hard he is. He presses a little harder when he sees Mike watching him, feeling the wetness seep through.

“You like this, eh?” Mike says, voice rough, and Tom swallows when Mike wraps his thick fingers around his own dick and gives it a few pulls, his fingertips taking a string of precome away with them. “How does my ass taste?”

Tom doesn’t know how to describe it. All he knows is that he wants to tongue it some more. He gapes at Mike, watching him on the couch, sexy and sure of himself, of what he likes, and Tom’s going to fucking give it to him. 

“C’mere,” Mike says, trailing his fingers past his dick. He pulls his thigh up to his chest and circles his hole with his fingers. “I touched myself in the shower earlier, made myself nice and loose. I’ll take your tongue so easy. Come on, Tommy.” 

“Fuck,” Tom says, eyes fixed on Mike’s fingers, watching them dip inside, his middle finger sinking all the way in. “Oh, fuck, Mike.” Tom’s never really played with his own ass but seeing Mike’s reactions to it makes him feel so hot, like he might want to try it too. 

“Tommy, c’mon,” Mike says again, ending in a moan when he pulls his finger back out and grabs his balls, holding them up out of the way. “You’re gonna make me come with your tongue.”

“Yeah,” Tom says. That’s what he wants. He wants Mike shaking and moaning all because of his mouth. He moves quickly, tucking himself below Mike, getting himself flat on the sectional. He spans his hands up Mike’s thighs, lifting him, positioning him. Tom loves the way his hands look all over him, tan against Mike’s pale thighs. 

Tom drags his tongue up Mike’s thigh to his hole again. He traces his tongue around it, then sucks a kiss over it just like Mike taught him. 

“Yeah, like that,” Mike says, hand petting Tom’s hair. “Use your fingers.” 

Tom touches Mike with his index finger, drawing it through all the spit and pressing inside. Tom watches Mike take his finger, easy and perfect, as it sinks inside him. 

“Ah--,” Mike gasps. “Now lick me. Please, Tommy.”

Tom flicks his tongue around the base of his finger, makes a point and pushes it in alongside his finger, Mike’s body opening up for him. Tom just wants to get deeper and deeper, press himself into every corner of Mike’s body. His dick is so hard in his pyjama pants, making him gasp and grunt into Mike’s skin whenever the tip of his cock brushes the fabric. Tom grinds down against the couch. He wants to take himself in hand and stroke off while he does this, but this is about getting Mike off, about giving him what he wants. 

“Give me another finger,” Mike moans. Tom stops licking to watch Mike take another finger. He’s mesmerized at how easily Mike takes it, how loose his hole is, how Mike tips his head back and moans, loud and slutty when Tom pushes his fingers all the way inside. 

Tom fucks his fingers into Mike for a few moments, marveling at Mike’s cock, red at the tip and so hard, leaving trails of precome all over his abdomen. Tom wants to taste that too. He wants to taste Mike everywhere. Tom pushes his fingers in deeper and Mike moans loud and long.

“Yeah, right there. Right there. Right there,” Mike sobs. He brings his hand up to his dick, jerking himself hard. Tom tries to keep up, tries to press where Mike wants but the sight of Mike stroking himself is distracting and so fucking sexy. “M’gonna come. Give me your mouth.” 

“Where do you want it?” Tom asks, half hoping that Mike will say he wants it on his dick, so that Tom can get his tongue all over Mike’s fat cockhead.

“Want your tongue inside me when I come, Tommy, fuck!” Mike’s squirming on Tom’s fingers and touching himself, sure and tight around his dick. “Ugh, yes, right there, just like that,” he moans when Tom spreads the two fingers he has inside Mike wide and pushes his tongue in the middle of them. “Oh, fuck, ‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna come.”

Mike starts to shake and Tom knows he’s coming because his hole starts pulsing over and over around his tongue and fingers. It’s amazing. Tom tongue-fucks Mike until Mike pushes his head away, until he’s trembling and oversensitive. “That’s good, fuck. That was so good, Tommy,” Mike says. 

Mike’s all flushed pink and sweaty when Tom lifts his head to look at him, his stomach and chest splashed with come. He’s still stroking his dick, milking out the last few drops, his free hand thrown over his head, like he’s been gripping onto the couch behind himself while Tom ate him out.

Fuck. Tom just ate him out. Mike looks this wrecked because of him, his mouth.

“Latts, fuck,” Tom stammers out, blinking himself out of a daze, brought back to the present by the throbbing between his legs. Fuck, he needs to come _right now_.

“Take your pants off and come here,” Mike says, making a hurry up motion with his sticky hand. Tom strips out of them as fast as he can, then pauses, because what does ‘come here’ actually mean?

“I, uh,” Tom says, hovering by the couch, “come where?”

“Here, put your knees either side of me,” Mike pats the couch by his ribs. Tom goes, crawling up over him. Mike’s body is putting out even more heat than usual; Tom wants to sink into it, wrap himself in it. “Yeah, kneel over me. I’m gonna suck your brains out.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Tom’s afraid he’s going to come the moment Mike’s mouth touches his cock. Mike’s eyes look extra green, looking up at him as he wraps his mouth around the head of Tom’s cock. Tom has to grab the base and squeeze, afraid for it to end all too soon. 

“Fuck, Latts,” Tom starts babbling. He can’t control any of the words coming out of his mouth. “Your ass is so, fuck. I can’t get enough of it.” Mike tongues Tom’s cock with a wicked look in his eyes because then he’s taking Tom’s cock all the way into his mouth, as deep as he can take it. 

Mike grabs Tom around the hips, urging him forward. Tom’s so hard. If he fucks Mike’s mouth he’s going to come immediately. Mike pulls off, a line of spit connecting Mike’s mouth and Tom’s cock. “Come on, Tommy. I know you wanna fuck my mouth,” Mike says, hands grabbing onto Tom’s ass and pulling him forward even more. “Fuck my face. I know how bad you wanna come. I want you to.”

Tom can’t resist after that. He pumps his hips, gives Mike exactly what he asked for. “M’gonna come right now,” Tom warns, before he starts pulsing streams of come across Mike’s tongue. Mike pulls back, stroking Tom hard so that he stripes Mike’s face with it. 

“Yeah,” Mike says, encouraging, licking his mouth, tasting Tom’s come. Tom can only watch, dumb from his orgasm. “Next time, I could fuck your ass with my tongue while you do mine” Mike squeezes Tom’s ass, fingers creeping toward his hole and Tom moans, loud and involuntary. The thought of Mike doing that to him is too much for him to think about after just coming all over Mike’s face. 

Tom climbs off Mike and collapses next to him. Tom groans. Michael Latta is too much for him. When Tom turns his head, Mike’s smiling at him, filthy and covered in come, eyes soft, hair rumpled in messy waves. Tom thumbs at Mike’s lips where they’re red and bruised from sucking him off. He rubs his own come into Mike’s skin and Mike moans, sucking Tom’s finger into his mouth. 

“You like me like this? Covered in your come?” Mike’s mouth is shiny and red and open and Tom wants to know what his mouth tastes like, too. 

It’s a little odd, the fact that Tom’s had his tongue in Mike’s ass, and he hasn’t even kissed him. But that thought doesn’t stop Tom from closing in, and licking the corner of Mike’s mouth. 

“You know where else I want you to put your mouth?” Mike asks, like he knows what Tom’s thinking as he leans in, his nose brushing Tom’s. Then the soft tentative feel of Mike’s lips, brushing across Tom’s. 

It’s everything a first kiss should be, Mike’s tongue dipping into Tom’s mouth, just past his lips, and the first touch against Tom’s tongue feels electric, makes him moan. Tom rolls over onto his side and pulls Mike to him, deepening the kiss, tasting his come on Mike’s tongue, smelling it all over him. 

“You taste good,” Mike hums against Tom’s lips, his hands tracing patterns on Tom’s back under his sleep shirt. Mike kisses him again, this time deeper, his hands traveling down to Tom’s ass and squeezing. “I can’t wait to taste you everywhere.” 

Tom’s dick twitches. “Fuck, Latts.” Tom can feel his face getting hotter. Girls have always told him he talks a lot during sex, but Mike is fucking filthy.

“Since you got me all dirty again, I’m gonna need another shower,” Mike says, still pressing the words into Tom’s mouth. “But we should nap first,” he adds, pulling a blanket down off the back of the couch and throwing it over the both of them.

Tom bites at Mike’s lip, moaning when Mike’s grip on his ass tightens. “Then lunch?” 

“Yeah, then lunch,” Mike agrees. “You’re always so damn hungry.” 

“Can you blame me?” Tom asks, dragging his hand over Mike’s ass, before they drift off to sleep, limbs intertwined.


End file.
